


Exposition

by Kholran



Series: Spin Me a Tale [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Blind Character, M/M, Mentions of Auto Accident, Mentions of Cancer, Past Character Death, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kholran/pseuds/Kholran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting to know you/Getting to know all about you</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> Exposition: Introduction of background information about events or characters

Thranduil’s phone beeped the hour as he shut the door behind him and returned his keys to the little dish on the side table. 1 am. It was far later than he’d intended to be back. Judging by the silence in the house, Legolas and Tauriel had already fallen asleep. That was good. He wouldn’t have to explain his lateness.

It had been a far more enjoyable night than he’d expected going into it, and Thranduil was glad, in retrospect, that he hadn’t turned down the invitation.

Bard had been waiting for him outside the pub when his car pulled up. It wouldn’t have been too far to walk, but the weather had turned even colder and he wasn’t as confident in unfamiliar places after dark. Or in the sort of crowd that frequented the popular stretch of bars, restaurants, and clubs on a Friday night.

Luckily, the place they had agreed upon was smaller and quieter, set a half block off the main drag. It was a Welsh pub of Bard’s choosing, and judging by the number of people who knew him by name, it was one he frequented. Thranduil had declined the offer to make the decision himself, since it had been so long since he’d gone out anywhere that wasn’t a work function. He was perfectly content to let Bard take the lead, with the stipulation that they avoid The Arkenstone. He wasn’t very welcome there since the incident with Thorin, the owner.

He had expected a far less eventful night this time around, and while he had gotten “uneventful”, he hadn’t gotten “unsurprising”.

The first of them came just after they walked through the door. Bard must have noticed Thranduil’s hesitation in the pub’s “atmospheric” lighting. He could have hovered and worried and taken Thranduil’s arm to lead him around like many would have done, but he hadn’t. Instead, Bard did what he did best, and used words. He painted such an accurate description of the pub’s interior that Thranduil had no trouble reaching a table in the back without any assistance, and without bumping into or tripping over anything.

“How did you know to do that?” he’d asked once they were seated.

“I Googled,” Bard had replied.

“You-”

“Googled, yeah. After we met, I realized the only experience I had with blindness came from TV. But you don’t have a dog, or a cane, or super powers to make up for it. That I know of. I just figured there were better ways to learn, and to be helpful, without being an offensive arse about it. So I looked it up.”

That Bard had cared enough to take the time and make the effort was his second surprise of the evening. Thranduil didn’t often discuss his particular diagnosis, or what it meant, least of all with people he barely knew, but Bard had seemed so genuinely curious. It wasn’t just a feigned interest out of pity or politeness; Thranduil had plenty of experience picking up on that. No, Bard had asked the questions he did because he’d truly wanted to understand how Thranduil perceived the world, and so he’d spent their first round trying to explain it as best he could.

“So it changes?”

“Sometimes by the minute. CVI isn’t an eye problem, but a problem with how the brain interprets the signals. Sometimes I perceive nothing but blobs of light and shadow and colour, sometimes it’s more defined, but never to the point of fine detail. Moving things are easier to see than stationary ones, unless there are too many of them, and looking directly at something tends to make it disappear. Since my left eye sees nothing at all, I have trouble with depth most of the time.”

Bard had hesitated then, before continuing.“Can I ask how it happened?”

Thranduil had hoped to avoid that question.  It was an even more sensitive subject than his impaired vision, and Bard had immediately picked up on it.

“I’m sorry. You don’t need to talk about it. I shouldn’t have pried,” Bard had said apologetically.

He’d taken a steadying breath and emptied his glass. “No. My therapist regularly tells me I need to, and I don’t feel it’s something I can discuss with my son. It brings up-” He’d cut himself off to compose his thoughts. “It was an accident. My wife and I had been out at a function for the company. We were on our way home when a truck ran a red light and broadsided our car. I don’t remember much after that. She was-” Thranduil couldn’t finish the sentence, but Bard had known.

“I’m sorry,” he’d said again. “I know exactly what that feels like. I lost my wife to cancer, four years ago. They caught it too late to do anything.”

Surprise number three.

There had been a long stretch of silence between them then, interrupted only by the waitress bringing them another round of drinks, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable. Bard had finally broken it. “Look at us, commiserating and drowning our sorrows. We’re a cliché.”

With that, the dismal mood had broken, and topics had turned to less depressing things. Bard was astonishingly easy to talk to, and the more they had spoken, the more common ground they had found. At the very least, they’d had no shortage of amusing stories involving their children to tell.

Thranduil hadn’t felt so free to be himself in years, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. To Bard, he wasn’t a CEO or a legally blind man with a tragic past or an inspirational story about overcoming the odds. He was just a friend, and that was a refreshing change of pace.  He hadn’t wanted anyone to treat him any differently, and Bard certainly wasn’t.

When his phone chimed midnight, they had both agreed they’d better get home to their children. Thranduil had insisted upon giving Bard a ride home since it had gotten so late and the trains were running less frequently. It was also his way of saying he’d had a good time without actually coming out and saying he had.

“Will I see you in your usual spot tomorrow?” Bard had asked before he’d shut the car door.

He’d smiled, glad Bard hadn’t gotten sick of him over the course of the night. “I expect you will.”

Thranduil smiled again at the recent memory. Certain he was going to have to answer all manner of questions come morning, he went through his nightly routine as quietly as possible and then slid into bed. He was asleep in a matter of minutes.


End file.
